


Painful Memories

by AceYosuke



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Panic Attacks, Religious Abuse, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, lame ending is lame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 03:17:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceYosuke/pseuds/AceYosuke
Summary: Based on the prompt- "Darling, stop."Which I did hardly anything with.





	Painful Memories

“Darling, stop.”

NO. The voice wouldn’t go away and she wanted it to go away. It was making things confusing and things were already confusing, and hot, why was it so hot? Her skin tingled and buzzed where she could feel it, smoke and fog where she could not. 

She was in the foyer, high white doors and worn carpet and people-

In the prayer room, sweaty palms and wood chairs- 

Her body, body in the sanctuary. Laughable name, stupid name. Her mother, long hair long skirt, leading her along by a foolish hand. Hands, hands on the knees as they kneel, eyes close on impact with carpet, maternal hands across shoulders. But then footsteps- many dulled footsteps.

Something's in her chest, it’s throbbing against her sternum coughing hacking as it tries to escape and its gonna kill her if it does.

Careful, twinning, buzzing strums of an acoustic guitar and gentle vibrating cymbal surround her. Same as all the people, too present and yet faceless. Men, men in suits and they surround them. And they lay their hands wide and with terrible strength held back with twine and words, on her shoulders in her hair on the vulnerable small of her back. All she can hear is heat and cloth and then there is the voice. The preacher with his whetstone tongue and dagger voice speaking words of curses and mistakes and prayer. And in a moment she knows, she doesn’t know what they know but the far away thought fills her with dread, sick and sirupy.

Her body’s on fire, great heady smoke made of points of contact. She fights head snapping around, whether to break her own neck or grab another’s, and somebody is pushing her down but dragging her and she bears her teeth like a dog with its ankle snapped in a trap. 

“SEE NOW THE DEMON,  
THE FILTH,  
TAKING HER OVER LORD TAKE IT FROM HER!”

She’s not bad, please let her go there’s too many people touching! Her eyes are hazy and she can’t move can’t run!

Where did the voice go she wanted it back, much nicer softer and she can see the heavy wood dark with blood and the corpse and she was gonna die. Momma, Dad, sweet voice please save her she doesn’t wanna die it hurts and hurts and she opens her mouth to scream-

Suddenly warmth, kind warmth consumes her body, her shoulders and arms are cool against ceramic. There are no great hands upon her. She feels something lapping at her, and she is reminded of her legs, coming up to connect to her waist, heavy with wet cloth; she’s soaked. She follows up, the curve of her spine and folds of her stomach. Her hands float in the warm water, palms up, and for a second the heat is back before she turns it over. 

Her head is heavy still, floating above her, wild errant thoughts like a bee hive with an assassinated queen. 

There are arms around her waist, loose, dark and slim. She pulls her mind to her ears, and there is soft humming, melodious like the gentle nighttime rain. She focuses on it, the slight breaks and holds for breath, and feels her chest rising, compelled by the one beneath it. The water seems to sense her awareness spilling back, exciting and swaying up her body. A chin comes down on her shoulder.

“Love?”

She moaned. 

“Can you tell me who you are?”

Her lips are stuck together. She shakes her head. 

“Please dear. Tell me your name?”

It feels like oil pouring out her mouth. “Jezebel Sa-Sayer. I’m nineteen.”

“Good, good,” the soft voice cooed. “Can you tell me five things that you can see, Jezebel?”

Her eyes dart around the room. 

“Water. My hands and legs, in the water. Your arms around my waist. The tap, which is filthy, as always. I can also see a little of your hair on my shoulder.” She felt a smile pressed into her neck and relaxed a bit more.

“That’s six things, my wonderful overachiever.”

Jez hummed, finally moving her static-filled limbs to turn towards her comforter. Her girlfriend’s shining face broke into a wide smile, eyes still wet and puffy. Jez reached up and swiped her thumb along a freckled cheek, wetting it with the quickly chilling bath water. Yet she pressed her face in, bringing one of her own to hold it. 

“Thanks Miah.” She pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth. “But… why are we in the tub?”

“Well,” The girl blushed a bit, “You weren’t coming out of it, no matter what I did. I thought… maybe with my powers… I’d at least be able to have some sort of control over it.”

“I appreciate it, baby.” She pulled herself up to kiss her again. “But can we get out now?”

Miah laughed, pulling her arms away as they both carefully rose, and Jez say the water go slack as the other girl stepped out. They run out as much of the water from their clothes, wrapping themselves in one of the old towels from under the bathroom sink.

Retiring to Jez’s small bedroom both girls changed, Miah in a light blue nightdress and Jez into an old pair of sweats and worn-out shirt, settling into the heavy quilt on the bed, pressed chest-to-chest. Jezebel sighed as a hand settled into the divet of her hip, warm breath moving across her neck. There was silence, before a voice tinged with guilt spoke.

“I’m so sorry I’m like this, Miah.”

The other girl hushed her, pressing kisses as more silent tears fell down her face. There was so many things she could say- It’s not your fault, it isn’t any trouble, we will beyond this one day, I’m right here and always will be. All comforting, but worn thin from use, and she knew Jezebel wouldn’t believe any of it in this fragile state. So she simply used her mouth, and her hands and arms and heartbeat, assuring simply in her being alive and reminding the other that she is as well.


End file.
